


Marauder Protocol

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:03:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: After a demonstration of her skill, Kasius sells the Destroyer of Worlds to the highest bidder. But the Marauder Fitz spends far more so he can get her companion as well…  A Marauder Fitz/Servitor Jemma AU – and maybe subtly a Beauty & the Beast AU too.Please note the tags!





	1. Chapter 1

Fitz stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed. He hadn’t planned to be in this part of the galaxy anytime soon, but rumor had it Kasius was finally willing to sell his best Inhuman warrior, the improbably named Destroyer of Worlds. If there was any truth to that rumor, then Fitz needed to be there to make an offer. If for no other reason than because he shuddered at the thought of someone else having access to all that power. 

That didn’t mean he wanted to spend the evening with the soft, unbearably dull people that usually attended these sorts of events. And they hadn’t even made it to dinner yet. Fitz sighed, wondering if there were any better forms of entertainment he could indulge in until the demonstration battle. 

As if on cue, one of Kasius’ servants entered, capturing Fitz’s attention. She was elegant, and yet there was something almost rebellious about her air of servitude. He couldn’t look away.

“That,” Enoch said in his ear, “is Jemma Simmons.” 

Through sheer force of will, Fitz did not react to the sudden appearance of his aide. It wouldn’t do to have anyone think he could be distracted so easily. 

“Would you like me to broker an introduction?”

Fitz shot him a withering glare. “Why would I need you to introduce me to a slave?” 

With that, he walked away, leaving Enoch alone. He didn’t head straight to the table at which she was stationed, so as not to appear too obvious. But he arrived there soon enough anyway.

“Don’t turn around,” he muttered, following it up by telling her his name. When she didn’t react at all, his frustration rose. He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. 

“Is there a problem?” Kasius – suddenly there – asked.

**

Jemma stared out the window at the stars and chunks of earth visible from the Lighthouse. She wondered sometimes what it would be like to go out there, with the other humans who worked the trawlers. It was a silly, idle fancy, she knew, as she had been chosen long ago for her current role. Other humans envied Kasius’ servants, thinking they received special treatment and lived an easier life. In the most basic sense, Jemma supposed they did. But she would trade it all for a chance to do…something more, something different. Something that felt human, that promised exploration and survival.

Sometimes, she even imagined what it would have been like for the humans of past centuries, to stand on solid ground, the earth itself, and look up into the night sky and see nothing but twinkling stars. 

The truth was, she was stuck here, doomed to a life of serving Kasius, until she grew too old or became injured, and then he would at best kill her immediately and at worst banish her to the Vrellnexians on the surface. Her only joy in recent years had been the training she gave to the Inhumans who had recently gone through Terrigenesis. She was known for her ability to comfort and guide even the most scared and reluctant of newly transformed Inhumans. She had even been assigned to Daisy years ago, after all.

Kasius had never wanted to sell Daisy, understandably, so Jemma was surprised he had changed his mind – something about his father she had managed to glean here and there. All that mattered was soon Daisy would be gone, sold to the highest bidder, and Jemma would lose her best and only friend.

Jemma sighed, finding it difficult as usual to regulate her volume with the implant device tuning out all noise. It was rather surprising when it suddenly turned off and she could hear the sounds of the party. At the same time, Kasius spoke and someone else brushed against her shoulder. Jemma spun in surprised alarm. 

The man was human – or at least far more humanoid than the Kree. He appeared to be around her age and was ruggedly attractive. Jemma wondered who he was, but she dared not stare for too long. Instead she faced her, ugh, master, folded her hands together, and looked at the floor.

“I asked your servant a question, which she ignored,” said the man next to her.

“My apologies,” Kasius said. Jemma was startled to discover that his obsequious tone wasn’t as obviously fake as it usually was when dealing with visitors. This man must have a formidable reputation. “My servitors are only allowed to hear the voice of their master.”

“Oh, are they? Well, why don’t you tell me how your guest’s needs are met when your slaves can’t hear them?”

The way he said _needs_ made Jemma shiver with both fear and a memory of the pleasurable sensation she had felt once or twice years ago, before the Kree made her begin taking the suppressants. She knew nothing would come of the man’s insinuation, however. Kasius selected servitors for perceived perfection; he was as enamored with humans as he was disgusted by them, or by himself for coveting them. He rarely laid a hand on them himself, and he certainly wouldn’t allow a guest to do so.

Perhaps a small part of Jemma, touch-starved nearly all her life except those rare moments she was allowed to hold hands with the Inhumans when they worked privately on their powers, would have even welcomed it. 

Yet, she was startled when Kasius handed the implant’s controller to the guest. “There,” he said, and the man nodded to acknowledge his gratitude. “This one,” Kasius continued, his voice seeming to slither across Jemma’s skin as he looked at her, “is quite exemplary. In fact, she is skilled at handling Inhumans, particularly the Destroyer of Worlds. And as you can see, she has a flawless complexion.”

“Is she for sale?”

Jemma struggled not to react. Her life on the Lighthouse was terrible, but it was _known_ , at least. And if Kasius was now willing to sell even Daisy, she knew she herself would hold no special position with him. 

“Not independently.” Kasius’ answer confirmed her fears, but also gave her a small amount of hope, which increased when he added, “She comes as a companion, for she is quite adept at motivating the Destroyer.”

The implication made her wonder when and how Kasius had threatened her, and why Daisy would care that much – they were friends, but survival on the Lighthouse was not easy and it was often every person for themselves. But more importantly, the statement relieved her. She might not lose Daisy after all, if this man bought them both. Of course, then she’d be at his mercy and would be expected to fill those _needs_ alluded to earlier. A prospect made even more chilling by the man’s next comment.

“Well, I find the only motivation people ever really need is pain – and its proper application.”

“A wonderful sentiment,” Kasius replied. 

The two walked away, leaving Jemma alone. The man did not turn off her implant again. Jemma wondered if it was intentional or if he forgot. Either way, she relished having the full ability of all her senses, for a short time, at least.

**

Jemma carefully wrapped the straps around Daisy’s arms. They were not particularly effective, but they did reduce some of the damage that her powers caused. Sometimes she wondered what they could have come up with, if they had any real resources, or if the Kree had cared about Daisy’s suffering as much as they did about her abilities.

It was hard to believe that, after so many years of training and demonstration, Daisy was finally being put into the arena. 

“If I lose, I’ll die,” she suddenly observed.

It wasn’t a revelation to either of them, of course, but it wasn’t something Jemma wanted to think about. 

“You won’t lose,” she assured her friend.

“Then I’ll have to kill someone. And I’ll be sold off to do who knows what.” 

Jemma didn’t have a response to that. Fights to the death were hard enough, but it could still be worse. Not all people out in the galaxy cared only for barbaric entertainment. 

“And who’s going to take care of you?” Daisy added.

Jemma chose not to challenge that statement, as it was at least partly true – they’d both been there for each other many times over the years. Instead she shrugged.

“Kasius told one of them we were a package deal, so maybe we won’t be separated.”

Daisy’s eyes grew wide with hope. “Which one? Describe them to me, and I’ll be sure to give them a real show.”

“The – the Marauder. He’s about my age. Lean. Light brown hair with some curl. He – he – ”

Daisy rose one eyebrow. “That cute, huh?”

“No.” Jemma shook her head. “Of course not. He’s a murderer. And he seems kind of rape-y.”

Daisy’s only reply was a suspicious _hmm_. 

“Just focus on winning,” Jemma pleaded.

**

Fitz paced his room between the dinner and the demonstration. He tried to convince himself he was merely impatient for the fight to start; it was, after all, the reason he came to this place. Truthfully, he couldn’t stop thinking about the servant - Jemma, Enoch had called her. He wondered if she was actually human, or some kind of siren species designed to make men lose their senses and ruin themselves.

He wondered what services, exactly, she provided for Kasius. And since he technically held her controller, did that make him her master now? It was only right that he should…sample…everything before he splurged any currency units on her. Consider it _her_ demonstration of skill. 

He could almost feel Bobbi punch him at that thought. But Bobbi wasn’t here. And for all her experience as a Marauder, Bobbi still didn’t always understand that not everyone held to the same moral code. For all they knew, the girl volunteered. For all they knew, at the Lighthouse, being one of Kasius’ courtesans was a position of honor. 

It was a flimsy justification, but it was enough. He pressed the button on the controller that would bring her to him.

**

Jemma stood just outside the guest room. On the other side was the man who now held her and Daisy’s future in his hands. She was nervous, knowing she could ruin everything if she didn’t handle this well. However, now, when the time had come, she realized she could not – she would not – meet his _needs_. He certainly was attractive. But that brooch on his chest and the way Kasius flattered him and that comment about pain filled her with far too much apprehension. Besides, there was so little that she could control about her own life. This was where she’d draw the line.

She exhaled slowly, knocked once on the door, and entered at his call. She still was surprised that her hearing worked, to be honest. She almost wished it didn’t when the door closed behind her with what felt like a very loud click. She stood as still as possible, hands clasped in front of her and eyes down like Kasius always preferred. 

He stepped closer and stopped in front of her. A moment later, he surprised Jemma with the soft caress of his hand on her cheek. She realized she was trembling more from the terrible desire to feel that everywhere than the worry that she actually would. 

“He covers you up with this paint because he hates that he wants you. He wants to pretend you aren’t human. But you would be far more beautiful without it.”

The murmured compliment fell over her as smoothly and adoringly as his touch. Her breath sounded loud and unsteady to her own ears. And then, he leaned in to kiss her, his mouth almost sweetly seeking rather than demanding. He held his tongue to her lips, requesting entrance.

It was too much, too unexpected, and Jemma pushed him away.

“No,” she declared. 

His hand moved to her arm and gripped tightly, but he released her – perhaps in shock – when Jemma raised her other arm and slapped him hard. He turned away, holding his palm to his face. 

“I am not his whore,” she said, her voice like steel, “and I will not be yours.”

She stormed out of the room, wiping at the tears streaming from her eyes. She didn’t know what upset her most – the anger that he felt justified in taking whatever he wanted, the abstract sense of loss that she’d never be able to choose her own partner in life to touch her like that, the fear that Daisy would now be sold off to someone else and she’d be stuck here, or the shame that his advances weren’t entirely unwanted.

She was halfway down the hallway when she felt the familiar pain in her head caused by the device. Her knees buckled, and she cried out, holding herself up with one hand pressed to the wall. After a moment, the pain passed and she was left only with the suffocating silence once again.

**

An hour or so later, her only concern was Daisy. The fight was brutal, and her friend was bleeding, suffering, close to losing and thus close to death. She looked up from the floor, finding Jemma in the audience. Jemma took the opportunity to cross her eyes and stick her tongue out slightly, the same expression she gave Daisy so many times when she resisted and whined during training. Daisy almost smiled in response, and then dug deep for more strength. She pulled herself to her feet and faced her opponent once more.

The battle ended soon after, and the auction began. Jemma couldn’t hear the offers being made, but she guessed they were large when more and more guests shook their head and removed themselves from the competition. Finally, it was only the Marauder and one other bidder. The Marauder said a number that made Kasius noticeably react and several others stare in surprise. The other alien bowed at him and stepped back. Kasius nodded at the Marauder, and it was that moment when Jemma’s hearing blocker turned off again. She blinked, twisting her head slightly as she always did at the sensation. When she focused on the others again, the Marauder was looking directly at her. His expression was…unreadable.

“And the companion?” he asked. “Is she still for sale?”

Kasius turned to look at her briefly, then faced the man again. “She _is_ very exceptional. I would hate to lose her – ”

“Fifteen thousand units,” he offered to numerous gasps.

Jemma’s eyes widened. It was more than any _Inhuman_ had gone for, in her experience. 

“That’s half as much as you offered for the Destroyer of Worlds,” Kasius replied skeptically.

The man shrugged, indifferent. “You said they came together.”

After a long moment, Kasius nodded again. Jemma could only stare at…her new master.

**

Fitz watched as the Destroyer stepped onto his ship, followed more slowly by the servant. She moved almost reverently and he wondered if she’d ever left the Lighthouse in her life. She stayed close to the Destroyer. Fitz wondered if that was typical, or if she was seeking out protection and reassurance, or if she merely wanted to stay as far away from Fitz as she could.

He scowled at the thought. 

“Your rooms are on the left. Enoch will get you settled.” He turned and began to walk away. After several steps, he thought better of it and faced them again. Looking past the Destroyer, he addressed the servant directly. “Then come to my rooms.”

He forced himself not to look back again as he walked quickly in the opposite direction. 

“Jemma,” he heard the Destroyer say. 

“It’s fine, Daisy. Let’s go to your room first.”

**

Jemma knocked apprehensively and barely had time to compose herself before the door opened. The Marauder stepped away immediately after confirming who it was, turning his back on her and walking towards a table in the corner of the room.

“Lie down,” he ordered.

Jemma turned to stare at the bed. She couldn’t move. 

“Jemma, right?”

She jumped slightly, still unused to hearing so much and startled that he knew her name. 

“Yes.”

“Lie down,” he said again. “I don’t like to repeat myself.”

Jemma closed her eyes, breathed in and out, then walked to the bed. She turned and sat before lifting her legs onto the mattress and stiffly lowering down onto the pillows. It was the most comfortable bed she’d ever been on, even more than the ones offered to the Inhumans during training. She folded her arms over her stomach and stared at the ceiling. 

“This is going to hurt,” he warned. 

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut against the impending tears. And so, it came as a complete surprise to her when his arm was suddenly pressing across her chest, holding her down. She could no longer be submissive and she began to struggle. 

“Lie _still_ ,” he gritted between his teeth, holding her more firmly. “Stop fighting me.”

Jemma vowed to never stop or give in – only to cry out and open her eyes when a cold metal instrument entered her ear. She lifted one hand, digging her fingernails into the forearm that held her upper body immobile. She compensated for that by kicking her feet and trying to squirm away, even turning her head to the side. He responded by moving his hand to her cheek and forcing her to look at him.

His eyes were very blue. 

“It’s OK,” he told her, voice quiet and almost comforting. “It’ll be over soon.”

Jemma whimpered, closed her eyes again, and flung her other hand out. It hit his chest and she gripped his shirt, tugging slightly as she sobbed again. The probe dug deeper, feeling like it burrowed into her brain. She screamed, the noise barely covering the sounds of a scuffle out in the corridor. The ship shook with the quakes Jemma would recognize anywhere, and then suddenly stopped. 

At the same time, the pain was gone. Jemma heard the sound of metal clanking into the bowl on the table next to the bed; the sigh of the Marauder as he released her, sat back, and tossed the instrument next to the bowl; and the knock on the door. 

“Yeah?”

Jemma turned to the door as it opened, tears still sliding down her face. On the other side stood the bald aide of the Marauder. He held an unconscious Daisy over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Fitz?”

The Marauder – Fitz – scrubbed his hands over his face. Jemma realized he looked exhausted. 

“It’s fine, Enoch. Put her back in her room. And get them some clothes.” 

The aide – Enoch – closed the door without another word. Fitz stood, grabbing the bowl and probe and walking to a sink Jemma hadn’t seen earlier. He began to wash them. 

“Unless you’d rather wear those, of course,” he told her. 

Jemma struggled to prop herself up on her elbows so she could look across the room at him. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why – ?”

“Only a weak man like Kasius needs such devices to maintain control over others. We will remove the Destroyer’s implant too, as soon as we can figure out how to do so without killing her.”

“Daisy,” Jemma corrected, even though it was hardly the most important point of the conversation.

He glanced at her, making eye contact briefly and nodding, before looking away. “Daisy.” 

She sought for something else to say, wondering if she was dismissed now or if he would still try to – 

“Go change. And wash that make-up off. I want to see…all of you.”

Jemma gulped. Then, not wanting to risk staying any longer, she quickly stood. She swayed on her feet slightly, reaching one hand up to her ear and the other out to the table to steady herself. After a moment of nausea and dizziness, she began to move again. She was nearly to the door when his voice halted her. She turned to face him.

“I…apologize for my behavior earlier; it was inappropriate. I didn’t realize – it won’t happen again.” The apology was unexpected, and she wondered if she had misjudged him. And then he added, “I will wait until you come willingly.”

Jemma blinked, stunned. She felt her cheeks turn red with anger or embarrassment or – 

Without responding, she turned toward the door again, opening it and stepping through.

The door had nearly closed behind her when she heard him warn, “Don’t make me wait too long.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t trust him.”

Daisy sat in the chair opposite her, wearing an outfit similar to her own – Marauder fashion left something to be desired but at least she was out of that blue robe that had plagued her most of her life – and staring at the ceiling as she spun slowly. 

Fitz had told them to, in his words, entertain themselves until he had need of them, because he wasn’t a babysitter, this ship ran its goddamn self, and Enoch was perfectly capable of seeing to everything else. _Why’d he even purchase us then?_ Daisy had wondered aloud after Fitz left them alone. 

“I don’t trust him either,” Jemma responded, only half paying attention as she perused the data tablet Fitz had given her access to.

She was supposed to be researching how Daisy’s implant worked. It was now turned on, in retaliation for the attempted rescue of Jemma, but Fitz told her it would come out as soon as Daisy proved she could be trusted. Jemma wondered if he knew Daisy made several insulting expressions and gestures at his back after that conversation. 

She also wondered if he knew how very much information there was available through this tablet. Jemma had no idea there was so much to learn in the whole universe. She could read the stored data forever and never know it all. She honestly forgot to even look for material on the implant for the first 20 minutes of her search. 

“Did he, you know, do anything to you?” Daisy asked, half-furious and half-curious.

Jemma thought for a moment, strangely hesitant to answer.

“He kissed me,” she finally said.

“What was that like?”

Jemma shrugged. “You know they gave the servants libido suppressants as well as fertility ones. It felt like kissing a cold fish,” she lied. 

Daisy snorted and went back to spinning in her chair. 

“That guy in Processing, Deke? He tried to kiss me once before I went through the Mist.”

“Tried to?”

“I kicked him in the balls.”

“Wish I had thought of that,” Jemma replied, laughing softly. “I just slapped Fitz.”

Daisy stopped spinning and looked at Jemma suspiciously. “ _Fitz?_ ” 

Jemma looked away so Daisy couldn’t see her expression. She simply shrugged in response.

**

Fitz stomped down the corridor to the servers that ran the ship, with Enoch following more calmly. There had been numerous malfunctions over the last week, and no simple fix had done the job. He’d have to dig into the bowels, get his hands dirty.

“It is, perhaps – ” Enoch began, but Fitz interrupted him with a shake of his head. He almost psychically knew what his aide planned to suggest.

“That was replaced only last month. I think it’s the navigation controls. Go find Jemma, tell her to bring my tablet. And some water.”

Enoch gave him a curious look and a slow nod of acquiescence before turning away to follow Fitz’s order. Truthfully, he wouldn’t need the manual stored on the tablet, and even if he did, Enoch had an extensive memory bank. No, it was because he hadn’t spent more than an hour with Jemma, total, in the last few days, and he was feeling almost desperate in his desire to be near her. 

Fitz shook his head. This wouldn’t do. He was beginning to regret purchasing someone who had become such a distraction. If he had any sense, he’d send her off with Bobbi when they next met up. He’d take a loss because no way would she pay the same exorbitant amount he did, but it’d be worth it to get the temptation away from him. In the meantime, he’d focus on his own business. 

Fitz reached down and pulled up the access grate. He slid, feet-first, into the depths of the ship’s control center. The area was filled with the beeping and whirring of machinery and, as usual, about 15 degrees warmer than the rest of the ship. Absent-mindedly, Fitz peeled his shirt off, and tossed it up to the floor above him. He worked silently for a few minutes, sweating profusely but identifying and confirming the problem. And then, he heard the sound of feet coming closer. 

“You wanted this…Fitz?” 

Fitz glanced up at the interruption, noting that she still felt uncomfortable calling him by his name despite his reminders. He placed his tools aside, and with a quiet grunt, he braced his palms on the floor above him and pushed, bringing himself up to the next level. He flipped to the side to sit, letting his legs hang into the hole. It was only then he focused on Jemma.

She was staring at his bare arms, the sweat on his chest, and the dirty tank top he wore. Fitz smiled. 

“The water first,” he said.

Jemma shook her head quickly, as if bringing herself back to the moment. She stepped forward and handed him the glass. The condensation dripping down the side was cool, and as Fitz brought the glass up to drink, several drops rolled between his thumb and forefinger. After lowering the glass again, he switched it to his other hand, lifting the first to suck the excess water off. He snuck a glance at Jemma, who was watching his movements with intensity. Fitz felt his cock stir at her expression, and he fought a wicked smile. 

He finished the water quickly, holding the glass back up to her and deliberately lifting one finger to caress hers as she took it. She twitched at the contact. 

“And the tablet,” he requested, voice gruff with the desire he was barely concealing. 

She met his eyes before quickly looking away again. She held out the device, nearly dropping it before Fitz took it, perhaps in an attempt to avoid any further touching. Fitz relented, dismissing her with a nod and dropping back down through the access entrance again. He heard her walk away and felt vaguely disappointed. 

Then, he activated the tablet. Out of curiosity, before finding the manuals, he checked the history. There were the expected searches regarding the implant, but also numerous others indicating a highly intelligent brain that had been deprived of stimulation and development for too long. Fitz was intrigued by what it said about her, and what she might be able to do with even just a few more weeks of reading. Or, perhaps, he could _stimulate_ other parts of her that had been neglected too. Working quickly, he added a few pages to her saved files. If she were such a quick study, they would both benefit, someday, from this additional reading. Fitz smiled slyly, then returned to work.

**

They had entered something of a routine. In the mornings, Jemma would train with Daisy, strengthening her control over her powers. After that, Daisy would wander the ship, sometimes bothering Enoch, who would then come find Jemma where she was studying, learning, gaining all the knowledge she could. She asked him endless questions about the things she read on the tablet, except about the files she had discovered after Fitz had returned the device to her.

Those files she read – and watched – in the privacy of her own bedroom. And that was something she was still getting used to, as well. Her _own_ room, which she could leave and enter as she pleased. The mattress was more comfortable even than the one in Fitz’s room, just next to her own. There was also a connecting door that Jemma found herself staring at frequently, wondering what she would do if he ever walked through it. 

The evenings began in a way that seemed familiar to her. She would serve Daisy her dinner, carefully carrying the food from the generator to the table, then standing patiently unless she needed something else. Fitz ate later, and he insisted that Jemma take her own meal with him. They never spoke to each other. It was becoming unbearable. 

So much so, that Jemma was relieved she had a reason to talk to him that night.

“I know how to remove Daisy’s implant,” she informed him. 

He looked at her, almost surprised, as if he had started to believe it would be impossible. 

“I’ll show you the information after we eat,” she promised. 

He nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a half-smile. Jemma caught herself staring and rushed to take a bite of her meal instead. She made a face at the taste. 

“Not to your liking, I assume.” She could hear the testiness in his voice. “I’m sure it is better than you’re used to, however.”

“No,” Jemma rushed to cover the unintended insult. “It is very – it just tastes different. Not _bad_ different, just – ”

“There are no suppressants,” Fitz explained what should have been obvious. “Your fertility will return to normal levels soon.” He looked at her briefly, and Jemma felt laid bare before him. “As will your libido. I want you to enjoy it when you come to me.”

Jemma faced forward, eyes unseeing. She took a bite of her food so she didn’t have to respond.

**

Her favorite place on the ship was a large window on one of the upper decks. She liked to stand there and watch the stars speed by. She was so used to being in one small corner of space for so long, staring at the same constellations. She wondered where in the universe they were just then. And yet, she didn’t really care, as long as it was far away from Kasius.

She started in surprise when she realized she wasn’t alone. Fitz stepped up behind her, close enough so she could feel his warmth. Jemma resisted the urge to lean backward and erase the distance between them. She refused to wonder what it would feel like if he wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. 

“Good work today,” he praised her. 

Jemma looked down at her hands, pulling the sleeves down and bunching the fabric in her palms so she didn’t have to see the bloodstains. _Good bloodstains_ , Jemma reminded herself. _Daisy will be fine._

“We make a good team,” Fitz observed. 

He wasn’t wrong. In fact, Jemma was still slightly confused about how willing he was to follow her instructions, doing exactly as she said without question. He trusted her completely, or perhaps he just trusted that she would do nothing that would risk hurting Daisy. Nonetheless, she braced herself, as she waited for his next statement, positive it would be some suggestive comment that would make her feel all sorts of conflicted emotions. 

It wasn’t, however. He simply pushed off the wall he leaned against, stood straighter and brushed one hand across her shoulder, drawing her hair to one side. 

“Rest,” he commanded. “You’ve had a long day.”

**

With a frustrated sigh, Jemma tossed the blankets off of her overheated body and stripped off her sweat-damp nightgown. She wondered vaguely if there was something wrong with the ship’s climate controls. It was late and dark, but she was slept fitfully. She collapsed back onto the bed with a soft groan.

It was then that the connecting door opened. Silhouetted against the dim light coming from his room, Fitz stood, naked. Jemma gasped, sat up, and belatedly remembered her own state of undress. She glanced down and saw her nipples had tightened like stiff pebbles, and she looked quickly away again. Even in the darkness, she could see Fitz’s eyes narrow as he focused on her body. She could feel her pulse racing. 

“I can’t wait any longer, damn it,” he muttered. 

With four large steps, he was across the room and kneeling on her bed. He captured her in an embrace, and Jemma raised her arms in a weak attempt to – he kissed her. No soft exploration this time, no hesitant entreaty. His tongue seemed to plunder her mouth, his breath hot on her lips when he pulled back slightly. Jemma whimpered, her arms sliding up so she could bury her hands in his hair, pull on the curls that she admitted now she stared at far too frequently. She couldn’t – or didn’t want to – resist when he kissed her fully again, lowering her back onto the bed and settling his body over hers.

He was heavier than she expected, and she finally succumbed to the urge to touch the muscles she had been fascinated by before. His skin was surprisingly soft, an interesting contrast to the feel of the muscles tensing and relaxing beneath her palms as she moved them over his body. She remembered to herself the names she had read on the tablet – biceps, pectorals, trapezius, latissimus dorsi, abdominals, gluteus maximus. When she squeezed that last one, he breathed out a shuddery sort of laugh.

“You could at least pretend to resist. Make this more fun.” 

His mocking angered her, and she glared at him as she tried to push him away. It was a feeble attempt.

“Yes, like that,” he teased, leaning down to kiss her again. 

She moved her head to the side, mostly in futile petulance. With a chuckle, he simply began to lavish attention to her throat and soon later, her chest. Despite her desire to seem unaffected, Jemma moaned. His hands seemed to caress everywhere – her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her waist, her bottom. His fingers dug into her skin as he pulled her close, and Jemma spread her legs farther, allowing him to fit between them perfectly. It was overwhelming, and even more so, when he moved his hand again, this time to where her thighs met. She could feel, when he touched her there, that there was an unusual wetness, a different consistency than the sticky film she had been rather confused and worried about when she saw it on her underwear earlier in the day. She couldn’t find it in herself to be confused or worried now, as it felt too wonderful when he slid his fingers along the slick skin and pressed in slightly. She moaned again, only to squeak in surprised pleasure when his fingers shifted and pressed against something that seemed to set off little starbursts throughout her body. 

“Oh! Oh, my!” 

She whined as he increased both his pace and pressure, and her hips instinctively rolled in response. She clung to him, scratching her nails down his back and panting in his ear, occasionally sucking and biting at the lobe. 

“Please, please,” she begged, not entirely sure what she wanted or hoped for, not sure if she meant for him to stop the almost cruel torture or to never, ever stop. 

The muscles in her lower belly contracted as she rocked her hips faster and faster against his hand. Her toes curled, and she could feel something building in her that she couldn’t understand until it seemed to release in a dizzying flutter of ecstasy. As it consumed her, she reached her hands to his cheeks, turning his head to hers again and kissing him by her own initiative for the first time. 

After a long, giddy moment, they separated just enough for Jemma to see his eyes, dark with lust, staring back at her through the dim light.

“Fitz,” she whispered, still in awe at the things he made her feel.

And then she shouted out – in surprise, in slight pain and immense pleasure – as he positioned himself and entered her. The hard member she had felt pushing at her thigh earlier had now taken the place of his fingers. It filled her deeper, fuller, stretching her even as her body seemed to greedily take it in. He pulled her hands above her head, and she gripped tightly to the bar at the top of the bed. The bed moved steadily with each of his forceful thrusts, creaking and hitting against the wall. For one wild moment, she wondered if Daisy was quaking the ship again, but then all she could focus on was the way his lower body pressed just perfectly on top of hers. He moved inside her again and again and again, each stroke forcing a high-pitched staccato grunt from her. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back and baring her throat in the submission he knew all along was inevitable. He leaned down to suck her neck, biting at it as that feeling of bliss erupted inside her again. Over her own pulse and breathing, she could hear him groan as he moved inside her and then suddenly stilled. 

He breathed heavily in her ear for a moment, then hummed quietly as he dragged his hand down the side of her body one last time.

“Finally,” he muttered. 

Jemma couldn’t help but agree, but she wasn’t about to let him know how she felt. She lifted her weak arms to push him off her and – 

Opened her eyes in the dark room. Her breath was unsteady and loud. She glanced around frantically, wondering for a moment where Fitz was until she realized… She blinked and swallowed, trying to clear away the memory of the dream. 

“The suppressants,” she whispered, recalling what she had read on the tablet after discovering the discharge on her underwear that afternoon. 

That was all it was. Long dormant hormones coming to life, forcing fantasies on her subconscious. It had – it wasn’t anything to do with _him_. Just her body finally experiencing what it had been denied for so long; some primal urge to make a baby. Jemma hesitated for a moment, then reached down. She was as wet as she was in the dream, as wet as the tablet’s files – the ones Fitz had saved, not the more scientific ones that taught her the names of all her anatomy – described would happen with full arousal. She stroked her fingers over the swollen skin, then circled them around the small bundle of nerves.

“Clitoris,” she said to herself, aiming for a clinical tone. The stronger she rubbed, the harder it was to maintain the ruse. 

As long as – as long as she didn’t think about anyone, there would be no harm in exploring these new sensations. Instinctively, she flipped onto her stomach, trapping her fingers between her body and the mattress. She inhaled sharply at the friction as she began to rotate her hips in small, tight circles, pressing down even as she slipped her fingers just barely inside herself. It didn’t feel the same as in her dream – smaller, more feminine. Despite the fact that she had no _real_ frame of reference, she knew it wasn’t what she craved. Jemma closed her eyes and imagined – no one specific.

**

When she exited her room that morning, Fitz was – by chance, she assumed or hoped – standing by his own door. She couldn’t make eye contact, but at the sound of him clearing his throat, she finally looked up. He was staring at her, that now-familiar expression of longing on his face.

“I heard you last night,” he revealed.

Jemma felt her face flush red hot with embarrassment and perhaps arousal. She turned away but couldn’t move further. The sound of his footsteps behind her filled her with an uneasy anticipation, but he stopped just inches away. Moments later, she felt the backs of his fingers slide down her arm until he reached her hip. Turning his hand around, he cupped the crest of bone and moved his thumb over it in feather-light strokes. She swallowed, trying not to imagine what it would feel like if she wasn’t wearing any clothes. 

“Soon,” he told her gruffly, “your fingers and your fantasies won’t be enough.”

Jemma closed her eyes, swaying lightly on her feet. She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him she’d never go to him, but the words stuck in her throat. He released her then, but she didn’t open her eyes again until she heard his steps disappear down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

Jemma stood next to Enoch, who had told her to follow him shortly after the ship’s proximity alert had sounded. She was frightened at first, thinking they were under attack, but Enoch explained that they were just rendezvousing with another Marauder named Bobby. She would be expected to welcome the Marauder while Enoch oversaw the exchange of goods and files between the ships. 

She started in surprise when Fitz suddenly appeared beside her, just as the airlock between the ships began to open. He turned to look at her, nodded in greeting, and then faced forward again. He was – smiling. Not the way Jemma normally saw him, with undertones of seduction or occasionally of a tightly controlled temper. This smile was boyish and charming, and he seemed truly happy for the first time since she met him. He even bounced on his feet in excitement. 

The door opened completely, revealing the tallest woman she’d ever seen. She was gorgeous and extremely intimidating, despite the smile she flashed at Fitz. Jemma watched, feeling an odd pang of jealousy, as the woman stepped forward and dropped a wet and sloppy kiss on Fitz’s cheek.

“Leopold,” she greeted him, causing Jemma’s eyebrows to raise in shock.

“How many times, Barbara?” was his only verbal response, although he also returned her kiss with a quick peck of his own.

They squeezed hands briefly before separating. 

“I’m going to help Enoch. Jemma will get you settled.”

The giantess focused on Jemma, who forced a strained smile. A grin slowly grew on the other woman’s face. Fitz and Enoch had disappeared before she finally spoke, however. 

“Hi, I’m Bobbi.” The _i_ was almost tangible now, and Jemma felt embarrassed that she had just assumed the other Marauder was male. “I’m so relieved that Fitz won the auction, especially after I heard who else was there. I just didn’t expect the Destroyer to be so tiny, but at least now I understand why Fitz said to bring _girl things_ to our next meeting.”

Jemma struggled to answer, choosing ultimately to just turn away. “Follow me, please. I’m not the Destroyer,” she blurted nonsensically. 

“You aren’t?”

“No. Although she’s small too. I’m her companion.”

“You were…sent with her?”

Jemma furrowed her brow, confused by the question as she couldn’t imagine Kasius ever just giving away someone. 

“No, Fitz purchased me as well.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jemma glanced behind and up at the woman, even more confused by the tone of her response. She was looking at Jemma with a very astute expression. Jemma faced forward.

“Daisy’s in the main guest room, and I’m in the one next to Fitz. I will set you up in the one on the other side.” A sudden thought occurred to her, making an unidentifiable emotion roil in her gut and heat her face. “Unless – you prefer to share with Fitz,” she forced herself to say normally.

“Oh God, no! Ugh.”

Jemma didn’t say anything further, not wanting to examine her relief too closely.

**

After she snooped around her room a bit, Bobbi went back to where Fitz and Enoch were still working. They weren’t alone; the girl Jemma had returned as well, and Fitz was currently showing her the tech items Bobbi had… _recovered_. She hid at the end of the corridor and watched them interact for a while, smiling at the way Fitz showed off and how the servant girl hung on his every word, fascinated. Soon, they both left the other way, leaving only Enoch.

Bobbi straightened then, walking towards the airlock as naturally as she could. She nodded a hello at Enoch, and took some wine out of a storage compartment, placing it aside for dinner that evening.

“So…how much did he pay for her?” she asked curiously. 

“Fifteen thousand units,” Enoch answered, no inflection at all in his voice as usual. 

Bobbi blinked for a moment, and then realized the confusion. “No, not the Destroyer. Her companion.”

“Fifteen thousand units,” Enoch repeated, exactly as he had said before. 

Bobbi stared at him, speechless.

**

Jemma stood in the corner of the room as Fitz and Bobbi ate their dinner. Luxurious food that Jemma had never seen before, let alone tasted, and wine from the most expensive traders in the universe – bottles that even Kasius couldn’t afford – were consumed without a second thought. Waiting there to serve them, when normally she would be sitting next to Fitz sharing a simple but nutritious meal, felt strange. For the first time in a long time, she felt like what she truly was: a slave. She listened to them talk, struggling to maintain her composure. They ignored her.

“Did you hear about the most recent rumors?” Bobbi asked. “Someone’s in the market for an assassin. I’ve heard your name whispered in certain circles.”

Fitz furrowed his brow. “Who do they want killed? And how much?”

“Fifty thousand,” Bobbi said.

Jemma’s eyes widened. It was everything she could do not to physically react. Fitz lowered his fork and looked at Bobbi, waiting. 

“Chancellor Korgun.”

Fitz scoffed and kept eating. Jemma tried to remember if Kasius had ever mentioned Chancellor Korgun. She didn’t think it was one of the people that usually attended his events. 

“So you haven’t taken the job then?”

“You know Marauder protocol as well as I do,” he said, seeming almost surprised. “You _taught_ me Marauder protocol.”

“Yes, and it doesn’t include buying slaves,” Bobbi said significantly.

Jemma stared straight ahead, pretending her hearing blocker was still installed. Fitz didn’t respond verbally, but he cut his food in a very angry way.

**

Jemma searched for a way to ask who Chancellor Korgun was and what exactly they meant by Marauder protocol, but she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she focused on assisting Bobbi as she prepared to sleep. Jemma put her clothes into the chute that would take them to the auto-cleaner, then faced Bobbi again. She froze on the spot.

Rather than pulling on the nightgown Jemma laid out, Bobbi had instead removed her remaining clothes, a bra and underwear set that had already left little to the imagination. Jemma didn’t know where to look or what to do. Bobbi glanced at her, then smiled.

“I put on frilly lace shit if I’m with a lover,” she explained, shrugging. She pulled on a wrap that, considering it was thin enough to see through, didn’t help much. She sat down on the foot of the bed and began to brush her hair. “Otherwise, I just sleep in the altogether.”

Jemma had no idea how to respond, so she focused on what she hoped was the most innocent part of the statement. “Frilly lace?”

“You probably have never seen much of it. It’s scratchy as hell, but it certainly can make you look good. The last guy I was with ripped my bodice clean off, the asshole.”

So…not very innocent, then. Jemma’s mouth opened and closed. 

After a beat of awkward silence, Bobbi looked at her curiously. 

“Do you understand what sex is?” she asked. 

Jemma couldn’t help but wonder if it had been her plan all along to initiate this conversation. She swallowed and nodded, considering for a moment whether she should explain about the files Fitz had put on her tablet. Then she realized that would probably lead to an even more uncomfortable conversation. So, she repeated the words that she had heard from the Kree so many times.

“It’s what humans used to do to survive as a species,” she answered, pleased that her voice came out steady. “Science releases us from that primitive biological constraint now.”

Bobbi snorted. “Was that how Kasius portrayed his Inhuman breeding experiments?”

Jemma was speechless, which she supposed was enough of an answer. Could that really have been why there were so few babies in the lower levels since Jemma’s own generation was born? It would certainly explain the higher proportion of successful conversions during the Terrigenesis ceremonies every year. 

“I wonder how long it will take you to sort out the truths from his lies,” Bobbi continued, looking at her sympathetically. “Let’s start with this: certainly, sex is for reproduction but it’s also something you can simply enjoy. A way of acting on attraction. Or connecting with someone you love.”

Jemma closed her eyes, swallowing against the lump in her throat. She didn’t want pity from Bobbi. And she didn’t want love from anyone. Love was something her parents had, love and hope, compassion and empathy. And it had killed them. It had been those traits she inherited from them that had brought her to Kasius’ attention so many years ago. 

“No,” she denied, “it’s just something for men like Kasius and Fitz to control.”

Bobbi stared at her. “He’s not that bad,” she argued. 

“I’ve seen the brooch,” Jemma pointed out. 

“All bad guys,” Bobbi said, shrugging. “Marauder protocol. We break laws, sure, but for the greater good.”

“Kasius and the others – they treated him as if he was one of them.”

“Interestingly, the real bad guys don’t notice _who_ someone kills, just how many kills they have. Besides, Enoch is good at his job.”

“What do you mean?”

“Which strikes the most fear – someone who does something bad or someone who is believed to have done something worse? The act or the reputation? Enoch knows who to tell the right stories to. Fitz isn’t perfect, but he follows Marauder protocol.”

“How many people has he killed?” Jemma asked, lashing out in challenge. “How many women has he raped?”

“Dozens,” Bobbi confirmed. “And zero.”

Jemma breathed out shakily. “Yet,” she muttered, not meeting Bobbi’s eyes. 

Silence reigned for several seconds. When Bobbi spoke again, her voice was softer, more hesitant. “My fault, probably,” she admitted to Jemma’s surprise. “I never really felt comfortable talking about that sort of thing with him. How to treat a woman right, I mean. The kind of women Marauders usually – well, look at me. I’m not exactly a blushing virgin. And I have a frilly lace gun holster and knife sheath too.”

Jemma inhaled. She was confused, unwilling or unable to listen to more. She headed towards the door. 

“Don’t worry; I’ll tell him to leave you alone,” Bobbi promised, only to add knowingly, “if that’s what you want.” 

Jemma felt incredibly flustered as the door closed behind her.

**

Fitz sat in one of his favorite spots – along the walkway high up above the hold, legs hanging down as he leaned against the railing. He looked at the small vessel stored there, a novacraft he used for quick trips or to move between the ship and places like the Lighthouse. There was room for another one still, and he decided to take one of the jobs Bobbi had told him about. It was essentially a repo, but the spaceships were being used to transport illegal goods – not to mention, for alien trafficking as well.

He scowled as he thought about Bobbi’s rebuke. He felt it was undeserved, since they had agreed that it was necessary to get the Destroyer out of the hands of the Kree. She had no problem with the idea of buying an Inhuman, had even contributed some of her own units to do so. They’d discussed it for hours before acknowledging that relaxing their own boundaries was a much better plan than going in guns blazing. 

He knew he should have told Daisy and Jemma long ago that they were free to leave whenever they wanted. That he would take them anywhere. But where would they go? And what would he do if they actually wanted to leave – if Jemma wanted to leave? The last several weeks with her – with both of them, really, but especially with her – had shown him exactly how lonely he had been before. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of Bobbi. She made a show of complaining about her knees and the hard surface as she lowered to sit beside him, acting as always like some old woman compared to him.

“All ready to head out?” he asked unnecessarily. 

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “You’re finally gonna be rid of me.”

“Whew.” Fitz’s reply was insincere.

They sat silently by each other, reluctant as usual to say goodbye. Eventually, Bobbi nudged his arm with her elbow.

“You’re in love with her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You knew immediately which one I meant though.”

“I’m not in love with her.”

“You want to screw her until she can’t walk straight.”

“Of course, I do. Doesn’t mean I’m in love with her. I barely know anything about her.”

“You want to, though,” Bobbi argued, sing-song. “You want her to tell you everything there is to know. You want to cuddle and kiss and talk all night long and – ”

“Stop.” 

“If you just wanted sex,” Bobbi continued, making Fitz sigh, “you could have gotten it for a lot less than fifteen thousand units, and yes, Enoch told me about that.”

Instead of replying, Fitz leaned over the railing and rested his chin on his arms. Bobbi stayed silent, and for a brief, beautiful moment, he thought she was going to let it go. 

“Just back off a little bit, OK?” she said. Fitz bent his head forward and rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe if you stopped treating her like she owed you her body, she wouldn’t feel like she had traded one despot for another.”

“I – she can – ” Fitz spluttered defensively, his guilt vying with his offense at the suggestion that her life had not improved a hundredfold. 

“I know you treat her better than Kasius did, but she still sees you as… Look, just maybe if you showed her the real you, the human you, not the Marauder, she would love you back.”

“She won’t,” he stated, resigned. “She never will, so just drop it.”

Bobbi did, apparently sensing how serious he was. After a moment, she changed the subject to her next job. Soon later, he walked her to the airlock. They hugged tightly, apologizing wordlessly for their quarrel. Fitz took comfort from her embrace, like he always had, yet feeling like he needed it more than ever. 

“Love you, Leopold,” Bobbi murmured in his ear before letting him go.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hello.”

Jemma looked up from where she sat reading quietly. Fitz stood in the doorway to the small room adjacent to Daisy’s suite. They often sat there in the evenings, still uncertain how to fill all the hours open to them. Two and a half weeks had passed since Bobbi left, and it had even been several days since Fitz and Daisy had fought a thrilling battle with smugglers and somehow obtained a new novacraft in the process. In comparison, things had been rather dull lately. A small part of Jemma also had noted that, in all that time, Fitz had not looked at or touched her inappropriately, nor had he made any innuendo. In fact, he had not talked to her much at all. So, she was rather surprised by his sudden appearance now, especially because Fitz had never intruded on their private spaces before. Jemma and Daisy shared a brief, curious glance, then looked to Fitz again. Jemma started to stand, in case he had some task for her, but he just waved her back to her seat.

“I’m starting a new project tomorrow. You not only have unique expertise, but I think…I think you will enjoy working on it. Report to the laboratory after you train with Daisy.” He turned and started walking away, before unexpectedly stopping and adding a quiet, “please.”

Jemma was unable to respond, and he didn’t seem to expect an answer anyway. She met Daisy’s eyes again, only to be greeted with emphatically raised eyebrows. 

The next morning, after the training session, Jemma entered the laboratory with some trepidation. She had never been inside it before. She wanted to touch all the equipment to see how it worked, but she was also too afraid to touch any of it.

“I was thinking of something you said the other day,” Fitz interrupted her, and she jumped in surprise. He smiled at her when she turned to face him. 

“About what?”

“Daisy and those straps you wrap around her arms and how you wished there was something that stopped the quakes from causing her so much pain. With something else, you could channel the energy differently – protect her while also increasing the power of the vibrations.”

“In theory,” Jemma confirmed, “but I don’t know – ”

“That’s what we’re going to find out.”

And they did. For the next three weeks, Fitz and Jemma spent nearly every waking minute in the lab, neglecting all other responsibilities as they researched different components, debated ideas, constructed prototypes, scrapped all their work when Daisy tested each new attempt without luck, and even occasionally argued with each other. Until the day that the gauntlets on Daisy’s arm behaved exactly as they should. 

It didn’t seem real at first. Jemma laughed in shock, mindlessly reaching out to wrap her hand around Fitz’s arm as they watched Daisy test the gauntlets again and again. 

“I could really do some damage with these,” Daisy observed, breaking the spell of the moment, and Jemma drew back her arm quickly and self-consciously. 

The next morning, they used the gauntlets in Daisy’s regular training. It took longer than usual, partly because it had been ages since they’d worked the exercises just the two of them and partly because Daisy was still not quite used to the new devices. Neither woman said much besides quake-related commentary until the end, when Jemma helped unstrap the gauntlets.

“You like him, don’t you?” Daisy asked, even as she rubbed at her newly bare forearms. 

Jemma struggled for a truthful answer. “He’s intelligent,” she finally said, “and he’s kinder than Kasius.”

“Faint praise,” Daisy rightfully pointed out, “but that’s not it, and you know it. You like him.”

“I should return these to the lab,” Jemma stated tersely. “I’ll see you later.”

She carried the gauntlets out of the room, ignoring the cajoling apologies Daisy called out after her. She tried to forget the accusation as she walked, but it was all she could think about. The anxious feeling Daisy’s question caused certainly didn’t go away when she entered the lab and found Fitz there again, but she ignored it in favor of her own curiosity.

“What are you working on now?” she asked, placing the gauntlets in their holding case and walking closer to the bench at which Fitz worked. 

Fitz stared at her a moment, then held the robotic device up for her to see. She looked at his slender fingers almost more than she looked at the object itself. 

“Drone we got from that ship,” he explained. “It’s not working quite right.” 

“Can I do something?” 

Fitz didn’t lower his eyes from her gaze as he licked his lips absent-mindedly. Jemma stared at the shine of saliva on his mouth, then forced her own eyes up. 

“It’s not that complicated, but…you could keep me company.” Fitz’s reply was uncharacteristically shy, as if he feared she would decline. 

Instead, after a beat, Jemma pulled out the chair across from him and sat. She didn’t want to distract him, but she found the silence stressful. 

“How did you learn to do all this?” she wondered.

The question suddenly felt far more personal than she’d intended. For a long moment, she thought Fitz would refuse to answer, or maybe even ask her to leave after all. 

“From my parents,” he said. 

Jemma waited, uncertain if he would say more. He didn’t look at her, but she could almost feel the grief radiating from his body in the way he curled in on himself, as if trying to make himself appear smaller. She knew the feeling all too well.

“They taught me everything they knew about technology, before – before they died. I was 14. I met Bobbi soon after, when she rescued me from the aliens that killed them on their next raid. She was only a few years older than me but already a Marauder, and she took me on as an apprentice. And that was that.”

He stopped talking, and Jemma wondered if he was waiting for a response. Mostly, she was just imagining him as a child, a thin boy with floppy curls. She had been only 12 when her parents were killed, but she was on her own for two more years before an impulsive attempt to aid an injured servitor in Processing had brought her to Kasius’ attention. So, they were around the same age when they were both suddenly thrust into their adult roles. The ones that set them on a collision course toward each other. 

“Designing tech,” Fitz said suddenly, breaking into Jemma’s thoughts, “inventing things and selling them – that’s how I make most of my units.”

“That and killing,” Jemma pointed out, although not harshly.

Fitz flashed her a wan smile. “Only bad people,” he countered. “Mar – ”

“Marauder protocol,” Jemma concluded.

**

Jemma knelt between the bodies of her parents, holding their hands and rocking back and forth as she wept. A light fixture that had been destroyed in the recent Renewal sparked above her. But she knew the whole thing had been a ruse. The Kree had marked her parents specifically for death, and their wounds had not been inflicted by other desperate humans.

What would she do? They were gone, gone forever, and she’d never – 

“Jemma!”

She sat up, fighting against the viselike arms around her but unable to break free. Breathing heavily, it took her a long time to realize she was safe far, far away from the Lighthouse and the day of her parents’ deaths. It was Fitz who held her, his voice whispering soothing nonsense in her ears as she slowly stopped crying. She clung to his arm, focusing her attention on the light from his room on the other side of the ajar connecting door. 

As she calmed, he separated from her slightly. He reached one hand up to brush her hair off her face, before sliding it down to hold her by the back of the neck. He forced her to look at him.

“You’re OK,” he whispered. “You’re OK.”

Rashly, Jemma pressed her mouth to his, lifting her hands to cup them over his ears. She whimpered when he didn’t kiss her back, and she shifted even closer, trying to get him to respond. Instead, he gently pushed her away, and Jemma fought a sob. 

“Not like this,” he muttered, shaking his head but refusing to meet her eyes. “Talk to me; tell me what’s wrong.”

It was the last thing she wanted to do – remember and relive. It had been ages since even her subconscious had forced her to do so. It was all his fault, dredging up painful memories, and now – after all the times he had tried to – he wouldn’t even… The rejection stung in a sharper, different way than her dream had, and it was all so very, very unbearable. 

“I shouldn’t even _be_ here,” she countered. “I should be – I should be – where were your Marauders then?”

He shook his head, confused. “When? Where?”

“The day my parents died,” she spit out cruelly, her reproaches getting louder and more vicious with every sentence. “And every day before and since. You, you say you kill bad people, but you let someone like Kasius live. You own us just like he did, just like so many others tried to. You take us and leave hundreds of your fellow humans to fend for themselves and to die at the whims of the Kree. Where was your precious protocol then?”

Fitz sat back, releasing her from his embrace. His face was blank as he focused on the bed rather than her. He didn’t seem to have an answer, but Jemma didn’t want one anyway. She just wanted him to feel the same hurt and rage she did, if only for a moment, so she wasn’t alone in it. 

“Get out,” she added, a small part of her shocked that she could speak to him like that without fear of retribution, that she could order someone else around for the first time in her life, and a much larger part of her remorseful when he complied. She watched him leave, his head bowed as he closed the door behind him. When it latched into place, it felt, in a way, as if it was the sound of their tentative friendship shattering.

**

There was commotion on the ship when she finally felt strong enough to leave her room the next morning. She stood just by her door as she watched Enoch walk down the hall, carrying a crate of supplies.

“This is the last of it,” he told her, “and the novacraft is fueled.”

He was gone before she could ask for an explanation. Thankfully, at that moment, Daisy appeared behind her. Jemma turned to her, immediately noticing the gauntlet case in her hands. 

“We can – we can go anywhere,” Daisy said.

Jemma blinked, unable to respond. 

“But…” Daisy hesitated, looking down at the case. “With these, I can… I’ll bring you somewhere first, if you want, but then I have to go back. I have to help the others escape, if I can.”

“I don’t understand,” Jemma whispered.

Daisy smiled, shifting the case so she could reach one hand out to grab and squeeze Jemma’s. “We’re free.”

Jemma’s mouth fell open, but before she could respond, Fitz was suddenly there. He spoke to Daisy, not noticing or perhaps ignoring the way Jemma stared at him in dawning comprehension.

“Enoch is waiting to show you the controls,” he was saying, “but the ship basically flies itself once you’ve set the destination. You’ll have enough units to get you started somewhere.” 

Daisy nodded, but Jemma could already see her planning her return to the Lighthouse. 

Fitz shrugged, seemingly at a loss. Daisy reached out, punching him lightly and somewhat awkwardly in the arm, and then walked away toward the hold to find Enoch. After a strained pause, Fitz faced Jemma. 

She had no idea what to say. They held eye contact for a bit, but Jemma could not read the expression on his face. Finally, he spoke, his voice gravelly.

“Take whatever you want,” he instructed, nodding towards her room. “And – the tablet, you can use it to contact me or, or Bobbi, or someone, if you need anything.”

Jemma still couldn’t find any words. He watched her intently, waiting, and when nothing came, he pressed his lips together and nodded. She swallowed thickly as he turned away. 

Before he started moving, he spoke quietly, almost aiming the confession at the floor, “I…want to be the type of man you would be proud of.”

He didn’t wait for any response, walking briskly down the hall. Jemma wondered if she’d ever see him again. The thought caused an ache deep inside her that she couldn’t quite explain. 

Eventually, she turned and walked back into her room. She gathered the few possessions she had accumulated in her time on the ship, mostly some clothes and the tablet and a small piece of metal that Fitz had idly bent into a funny little shape while they working on the gauntlets. She had picked it up, although she was not sure why, and had kept it on the table beside her bed. 

Jemma looked around the room, saying a mental goodbye, and then went to find Daisy. 

Soon later, she sat next to Daisy in the small cockpit of the ship as she pressed the buttons Enoch must have shown her. The whirring sounds of the novacraft coming to life and preparing to take them away acted as some sort of trigger, panicking Jemma and snapping everything into place in her mind. 

“Daisy?” she whispered.

The look her friend gave her was disturbingly perceptive. 

“I can’t go,” she admitted. 

“I know,” Daisy replied. “Go get him.”

Jemma rushed to unbuckle the belt. She leaned forward, kissing Daisy’s cheek. With an admonishment to be careful and instructions to contact them after she’d helped the others at the Lighthouse, Jemma climbed out of the cockpit. She was barely out of the ship when it took off, zooming towards the force field marking the exit. 

She turned, surprised to spot Enoch standing several feet away. He held her small parcel of belongings.

“Daisy told me to hold this instead of stowing it,” he observed simply. 

Jemma grinned, but didn’t respond. Instead, she ran past Enoch in search of Fitz. 

She found him, of all places, in her room. He stood in the corner, looking lost. The click of the door closing behind Jemma seemed to wake him from his daze. He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe she was really there. 

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jemma shrugged, laughing through her tears. “Because…I could go anywhere in the universe, and it turns out I just want to be here with you.”

Fitz moved then, rounding her bed. She hurried to meet him halfway and they slammed together in a tight hug. He dropped kisses all over her face, murmuring her name reverently, until their mouths finally connected. Jemma laughed or sobbed against his lips, then she kissed him again, deeply.

It was overwhelming, and Jemma felt unsteady on her feet. At least that’s what she told herself as an excuse to guide him to the bed. She lowered herself onto the mattress, tugging on his shirt so he had to follow her. On their sides facing each other, they did very little besides kiss for quite some time. But eventually, it was not enough. Jemma wanted to feel everything she had read about, everything she had dreamed about. She reached down, fumbling for the fasteners of his trousers. She pushed them down, brushing the back of her hand against his erection as it was freed. He groaned into her mouth at the contact, and soon Jemma felt his own hands at her waist, removing the clothes that covered her. 

Once she was bare on the bottom, she rolled to her back, waiting for him to climb on top of her and enter her. When he didn’t follow, and instead tugged on her shoulder to bring her closer to him, she opened her eyes in confusion.

He was watching her, pupils dilated with arousal yet a soft expression on his face. He reached for her hand then, pulling on it slightly as he turned to his own back. 

“Like this,” he suggested, even as he positioned her on top of him. 

She straddled his waist, failing to realize what he wanted until he moved them both again and he brushed against her wet folds. Her moan prompted a wicked smile of anticipation to his face. 

“Like this,” he repeated, guiding her to her knees and shifting underneath her until they lined up properly. “You can decide when and how deep.”

She understood then. Reaching out to hold one of his hands again, she moved deliberately, unwilling to wait any longer. She could feel herself stretching around him as she lowered down again. He filled her even better than in her dreams. Jemma’s eyes closed in contradictory delight and discomfort, her breath shuddering yet strained.

“Jemma?” His voice was tight, and she could feel him struggling not to move.

“I’m…” she tried to reassure him. She bent forward, blindly reaching out to touch his chest. “This is… _marvelous_.”

He chuckled, and she dragged her hand down to feel his lower belly trembling. She began to gently grind down to stimulate herself even more. Soon, Fitz was moving with her, his fingers pressing almost painfully into her skin as he rocked his hips up to slide even deeper into her. 

He sat up unexpectedly, wrapping his arms around her in a hug and using the embrace to guide them both in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. He was close enough to kiss, so she did, opening her eyes as their mouths met and their tongues stroked together and their rough breaths mingled. He moved one hand to fondle her breast through her shirt, and she closed her eyes again at the sensation. 

Their leisurely pace couldn’t last, however, not when she wanted him as much as she did, not when he had wanted her for so long. They began to move in earnest, more and more frenzied as their bodies came together again and again. The bed creaked just as it had in her dreams, just as it had when she experimented so many nights, refusing to put a face on the man in her fantasies. Jemma clung to his shoulders, losing all restraint and simply letting him move them both.

“Fitz,” she nearly whined, desperate for release.

He moved one hand down, pressing his thumb against her clitoris, rubbing tight circles that made her cry out. He flipped them then, landing on top even as he continued to rock into her. Jemma hooked one knee high around his hip, opening herself up more to him. Only a few thrusts later, she felt her climax begin, and she slapped one hand to his bottom, holding him deep inside her as she spasmed around him. Moments later, she felt him shudder in his own ecstasy even as she heard him shout out once more. 

It was some time before they could move, but it still felt too soon when Fitz pulled out of her, causing Jemma to moan again. He flopped onto his back beside her, sighing as he let his arm slowly fall until his hand wrapped loosely around her thigh. She dislodged it quickly, however, turning to her side so she could throw an arm and leg around him. He murmured happy nonsense, then neither one moved nor spoke for a long time.

“I want to do that again,” Jemma finally said, her voice seeming loud in the otherwise blissfully quiet room.

“As often as you want,” Fitz promised.

She smiled. Tracing her fingers in lazy circles over his chest, she basked in contentment. But it wasn’t to last, as she began to wonder where Daisy was, and how far away from the Lighthouse they were. Jemma frowned, feeling torn for a moment until she struck upon a solution.

“I want to hire you for a job,” she told Fitz, ignoring his jolt of surprise. “But I don’t have enough units.”

“Eh,” he replied, a laugh in his voice as if he thought she was teasing. “I’ll give you one freebie. What is it?”

“Daisy’s going to save as many humans and Inhumans from the Lighthouse as she can. That’s her priority.”

He was silent, turning sober when he realized she was serious. “What’s your priority?” he asked. 

“I want to kill Kasius.”

He cleared his throat. “Enoch already set the destination before you left. We’re on our way.”

“Really?”

“Really. I didn’t know that’s what she was planning. I just wanted – I – that is – ”

“Excellent,” she interrupted, a little alarmed by the ruthlessness she felt. “But remember, Fitz, _I_ want to kill Kasius. Consider it my first act as a Marauder.”

She twisted to look up at him. They held each other’s eyes until a smile grew on his face. “You know Marauders have to spend some time as an apprentice,” he informed her.

“Know anyone looking for one?”

Her question had been impish, so she couldn’t blame him when he rolled them over so he was on top again and kissing her deeply. 

She let him have the power for all of a minute before she pressed at his shoulder. He went willingly to his back, and she crawled on top of him again. As she felt him start to harden beneath her, she hoped they weren’t _too_ close to the Lighthouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again posting this way too late at night - let me know if any typos!
> 
> Those of you following me on tumblr know that this is the first of a pair of AUs. As soon as I have enough written, I'll start posting the _Cryo_ Fitz/Servitor Jemma AU!


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